


To Fate and Circumstance Resigned

by rivlee



Series: All the Difference [3]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietros reflects on the past year of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Fate and Circumstance Resigned

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tracy Chapman's _Goodbye_. Unbeated.

Little hands tugged at his head, making Pietros’ stoic face break out into a truly genuine smile. Holding Elpis was like grasping a little bit of sunshine; a source of warmth whenever in Pietros’ arms. She, like many of the others in his life, still loved him for what he could give her, but he knew that as she grew it would become genuine affection, not what Pietros represented. Ever since he was a boy, Pietros had been passed from hands to hands with various sources of intent. He’d been touched in curiosity, in punishment, in cruelty, and for a brief moment there in something he thought was love. 

Most of him knew that last was its own truth, but he could not forgot the shaken foundations of his heart when Barca first disappeared; the dry taste of sand and ash in his mouth as he kept a blank face until privacy saw him dry heaving against the ludus walls. Pietros had believed he’d provided entertainment for a time; left behind when empty promises when Barca purchased only his own freedom. It was a truth he had still believed, even when a strange man showed up to purchase him from Batiatus. He’d only known Auctus from the stories told by Barca, Oenomaus, Crixus, Ashur, and Naevia. He never expected the man to re-appear, as if fulfilling some debt. 

He hadn’t liked Auctus at first; the man was arrogant, demanding, and a complete ass. He didn’t give Pietros time to grieve in Capua when he informed him of Barca’s true passing. He didn’t offer honeyed words of seduction as one would expect for a man purchasing a boy of Pietros’ talents. He’d just thrown a pack at Pietros and told him to hurry; they had an appointment to keep. Pietros had wondered during those first weeks how Barca could ever love such a man; Barca often derided his type inside the ludus. Pietros then saw Auctus defend them when a robber came upon them on the road, and he understood the attraction as he watched the movements of that body. It was later, watching Auctus set the broken wing of a sparrow, showing the slightest hint of heart buried under the tough skin and scars, that Pietros started to comprehend that Auctus was a man who rarely showed his true self.

It made Pietros hate him even more. He compared himself to that, a boy ever so eager and obvious for love and affection, and found himself wanting. It left a dark cloud over him as spent time reliving each moment of his life, wondering where he could’ve changed its course if he were a different man.

“You should value your tender heart,” Auctus had said. “It is a rare and precious thing in such a world.”

“Is it of value only because it can be so easily bought and sold?” Pietros had asked, huddling into the cloak that had once been Barca’s.

“It is of value because it is a thing which defines _you_ ,” Auctus had informed him. 

That felt of little comfort as they traveled muddy and dusty roads to some small city in the south, climbing creaking wooden stairs to a room at an inn. Pietros had allowed himself to grieve, to wallow, to get _angry_ for the first time in years. Feeling emotions, having the time to dwell, was a new found _luxury_ that came with his supposed new freedom. 

His life had changed in ways he never imagined over a year. From the favored lover of the Beast of Carthage, to the disillusioned boy he’d left behind; to being sold into the hands of a new master, to finding out the truth of the world around him and the House he had so faithfully served; to meeting a whole slew of new faces in the luxurious villa attached to a farm far south of Rome. It was the first time Pietros ever had companions or friends who sought out his time for things he couldn’t give with his body. He never knew friendship alone could so lighten a world that had grown dim. Even as he swore to forever stay with Chadara and Nasir, a vow he’d told none but the birds of, he still reveled in how new it all it felt. He’d never known such a thing, and it helped mend the pieces of him that still felt chipped and battle-worn. 

Elpis helped the most of all. She was a person Pietros _could_ protect and one he _chose_ to watch over. He’d always known how to wield a sword, but when a ludus’ slave value is so far below that of a gladiator, even more so of a Roman citizen, there was little point to such knowledge. Now he trained with Auctus, though they both silently agreed to never work the spear. Perhaps Nasir could teach him one day, if they ever got free of these walls, but Pietros would not dwell. He’d once spent months and years dreaming of a life far beyond walls, and it had not gone well. Now he would simply keep to his watch to Elpis as she grew; her little hands could hold his hopes. 

Auctus and Agron were both absent now, chasing after Naevia to see her from the Mines. Pietros did not know how such a feat could be managed, but if any was to achieve it, Auctus would see it done, with blood upon his hands, and the darkness rising from within whatever now held the space of his heart. Pietros knew he had the same dead, black space, perhaps a mark and legacy of having Barca’s love. Pietros had now decided it was a worthy price to pay. His anger had its other targets now; never for the man who very likely died trying to see Pietros one last time. Naevia had told Auctus Barca had tried to run, towards the stairs, towards the ludus, towards Pietros, towards one last act of protection. His own words had very likely brought about Barca’s death; words he spoke because Barca sought protect him even then, and in the end, the _very_ end, Barca still thought of him. 

Pietros stroked Elpis’ cheek. “One day, when you are much older and have enchanted everyone, I will tell you of Barca, and his birds; of the gods he worshipped, the land he came from, and those he loved. You will carry his legacy, and so may your children, and your children’s children, until his legend becomes that of Barca and the Birds, not the Beast of Carthage. He was a beast, to be certain, but he was also a man who loved deeply, and cared even when the world tried to beat it out of him.”

Elpis had no words, just a tiny smile, as she grabbed his finger and gripped. She was strong, and gods willing, she would stay so.


End file.
